


Family Wedding

by talkingtothesky



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Finale, Season/Series 04, Unrequited, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3871303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkingtothesky/pseuds/talkingtothesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reese and Finch dance at Root and Shaw's wedding. (Never gonna happen, but potential 4x21/22 spoilers for context.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> photonromance put out [a request](http://photonromance.tumblr.com/post/117736923682/okay-but-consider-this-slow-dancing-rinch#notes) for slow dancing Rinch, and somehow this angst fest happened. Take note of all the pairings, friendships and tags up there. Rinchers may well hate me for the way this ends, with nothing resolved whatsoever. Shooters...read around the Finch angst for some completely unrealistic Root/Shaw fluff? idek.

The subway made a surprisingly good dance hall, all things considered. The acoustics were a little eerie, but there was plenty of space, and the soft lighting was perfect for a romantic ambience. They'd dragged tables and chairs and a veritable banquet down here. A glitter ball and fairy lights hung from the archways, and Finch had rigged up half a dozen speakers. It was a little extravagant for a one night wedding reception, but Finch could well afford it now that Samaritan was destroyed, access to his bank accounts re-established. And these two ladies deserved all of it and more.

 

Root and Sameen twirled gracefully in the centre of the floor. Root was in a full white wedding dress, for real this time. Finch couldn't quite look at her without thinking of Grace, imagining how she would have looked if they had made it to the wedding day he'd promised her, that day in the park with a ring inside a book. Shaw's short black dress was a little less traditional; she looked equally stunning. She was gazing up into Root's face, and Root was staring back wide-eyed and ecstatic, both of them flushed with pleasure.

 

Lionel whirled past Finch's table with Rhonda, grinning broadly. Leon's new girlfriend Melissa was attempting to wrangle something resembling a dance move from him, while he was mostly distracted with her breasts. Zoe had brought an exceedingly handsome man with her. Finch didn't know his name, they hadn't been introduced. He could look him up in a heartbeat, but Finch elected not to - Ms Morgan deserved some privacy. John and Iris were tucked away snugly in a corner, talking softly to one another. Finch tried not to glance at them too often. In the subway car, Genrika was playing fetch with Bear, bouncing a tennis ball off walls and ceiling in increasingly complex patterns. Finch watched them for a while, absentmindedly calculating trajectories and wincing every time they narrowly missed a computer screen.

 

"You okay, Harold?"

 

He glanced up. It was Megan. She'd brought Shaw back to health after they'd finally rescued her from Samaritan's clutches. Megan was here today alone. He smiled at her. "Yes, thank you. May I offer you another drink?" She laughed and held out her nearly empty champagne flute. He topped it off and put down the bottle. He wasn't drinking.

 

"Sameen has made a remarkable recovery." The doctor continued, sitting down in another chair beside Finch.

 

His eyes tracked back over to the happy couple. "She certainly has. That's thanks to your care and expertise, Dr. Tillman." He managed to produce a grateful smile.

 

Megan shook her head and poked his arm. "Then why aren't you celebrating?"

 

 _I am_ , he wanted to insist, but the sudden tightness in his throat would have caused the words to come out high-pitched and ridiculous. He was happy for them, he really was, but he also missed Grace so much it _hurt_. He missed the Machine, his creation, his child of over ten years. It - _she_ \- had sacrificed herself to save them and taken down Samaritan in the process. He missed Joss, and Nathan. There was something in Harold's nature which prevented him from enjoying even as joyful an occasion as this. Everybody else here was putting to one side painful memories of the recent past and being happy in the moment, but he couldn't.

 

"Hey," Megan said, touching his arm again. He realised he hadn't answered her question. He was about to apologise when he realised she was looking up over his shoulder at someone. Finch turned carefully in his seat to see John, standing close behind him, radiant in his trademark suit.

 

"Hey, Megan." Reese said, with a warm smile. "Thanks for keeping him company."

 

Harold's jaw dropped open, glancing back and forth between them.

 

"You're welcome." Megan winked at John and patted Finch's sleeve as she stood up from her chair, striding off to go say hi to Zoe.

 

"What on earth was that about?"

 

Reese shrugged. "Earlier I asked her to keep an eye on you for me."

 

Finch's brow furrowed. "Well, that's unnecessary."

 

"I disagree. Here." John held out his hand, palm up. Harold stared in confusion - there was nothing in it.

 

John rolled his eyes, tipped his head to the side. "Come on, Finch."

 

Harold swallowed past the lump in his throat. Was Reese seriously asking him to _dance_? He scanned the crowd for John's girlfriend.

 

As though reading his mind, John explained: "Iris had to leave early. She's got a family thing."

 

Finch bit back the first caustic response that came into his head - _why didn't you go with her?_ \- and instead asked, feebly, "Why?"

 

Reese only waggled his outstretched fingers at him.

 

Harold hesitantly placed his hand in John's, allowing himself to be gently lifted out of his seat and tugged away from the wall to where there was space to move. He felt as though there were many judging eyes on him, his face reddening, but he did his best to ignore the sensation and focus on John's affectionate gaze. It had been so long since John had last directed that look towards him, the one that lit up his eyes, his cheeks stretching out in a true grin. Harold's splintered heart swelled, just a fraction.

 

Arms held out to the side, their hands settled around one another effortlessly. Finch rested his left hand on Reese's lapel and found he didn't mind the assumption that the taller man would lead in this. John's arm curving around his back was icing on the cake. Reese stepped forward, Finch stepped back, and they were off. An easy pattern ensued of feet together, feet apart, Reese's strength and warmth warding off the worst of Finch's grief. John moved slowly and carefully enough that Finch never felt out of his depth, never had to overtax his injured hip.

 

"You did good, setting this party up, Harold." John told him, breath caressing Harold's forehead.

 

"Do you think so?" Harold replied, fretfully. If he were honest with himself, there was still plenty more he could have done. He squeezed John's hand briefly in thanks, all the same.

 

"Absolutely," John assured him. He was leaning in more closely now, the distance between their faces greatly reduced. Every so often, Finch's vest brushed against John's jacket. In danger of becoming absorbed into this artificial little bubble with Reese, Harold attempted to look out at the other couples, as they swayed and turned and rocked soothingly. He caught Megan's eye and she flashed him the thumbs up, but apart from that, nobody was paying them much attention, critical or otherwise. Root and Shaw had progressed to outright snogging - Finch quickly looked away from them, back at John's pristine white shirt. It was of a much higher quality than Riley's work clothing, and he found himself wondering whether it was one of those they had acquired in Italy, or a more recent purchase. Seconds later Harold realised he was stroking the fabric with his thumb to test its softness, and nearly backed out of the embrace altogether, panicking.

 

"Had enough, Harold?" John murmured, slowing their pace even further but not for a second letting go. God, what was John _doing_. This wasn't remotely fair. He'd had a short interval of peace but now the worries were crowding in again, feelings he'd never properly confronted, and John's lips were _right there_. Harold could...he could simply _give in_ , blame it on the alcohol, except he hadn't drunk a drop. He could ruin John's happiness with his selfishness. And this...whatever this was. John's pity-driven attempt to make Finch feel better, perhaps. Angry as it made him, Harold didn't want it to end. He'd have to savour as much of this closeness as he could, without letting on exactly how much it affected him. He could do that. He'd had thirty years of practice with Nathan.

 

Finch switched tack to focusing on the dance itself. He took his steps more confidently, pulled Reese after him slightly more assertively. It helped that the music was speeding up; Harold increased their pace accordingly. At the end of another turn Reese surprised him by lifting their loosely clasped hands above Finch's head. Harold wasn't quite ready for the spin, but he executed it without falling over or hurting his neck. Afterwards Reese reeled him in, so that their chests bumped together. Finch closed his eyes and tried not to whimper.

 

He was saved - or ruined, he couldn't tell - by Root tapping John on the shoulder and cutting in. John relinquished him to Root smoothly enough, and Harold couldn't very well refuse the change of partner without being rude to the bride.

 

John went to Shaw - she'd kicked off her high heels and was rubbing her ankle as he approached.

 

"Oh, hell no." She complained.

 

John said something Harold couldn't hear, and then Sameen replied loudly. "Fine, you gangly freak of nature. Fair warning - you step on my toes, I'm gutting you with a fish hook."

 

John mock-saluted her. "Message received and understood, Shaw."

 

By the time Finch dragged his attention back to the beautiful young woman he was now leading around the floor, Root was smiling knowingly at him. "You're a damn fool, Harry."

 

"Yes, thank you for that assessment." He remarked, but they both knew the heat behind the words wasn't directed at her. He continued, more softly: "Has today been everything you hoped for, at least?"

 

Root's answering smile showed all her teeth, and it didn't even look remotely shark-like. "Best day of my life." She admitted.

 

Harold nodded. "That's good. I'm glad." And he was, he really was.


End file.
